


Conflict of Interest

by Whymsical



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alfred's a producer, Alternate Universe - Human, Arthur works for the town council, M/M, Small Towns, Uncommon Professions, small appearances by the btt, they argue a lot lol, usukustwiceperyear 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 23:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16274654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whymsical/pseuds/Whymsical
Summary: Alfred Fowler Jones, a prominent Hollywood producer, discovers his heritage in the form of a crumbling family estate in the English countryside. He wants to restore it, but has to convince the village council, and more specifically councilman Arthur Kirkland, that he’s sincere in his efforts.





	Conflict of Interest

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for the 2018.1 twiceperyear collection! Theme was Uncommon Professions, and I think both of these are a little bit out there. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I got inspired to write the fic after watching a news segment about Hopwood DePree, who's doing the same thing as Alfred. I just really figured that it would be something that Alfred would do! You can read about it here if you're interested: https://www.telegraph.co.uk/property/luxury/meet-hopwood-depree-la-actor-has-swapped-hollywood-crumbling/

“Here it is. Fowler Hall.” Arthur drew the car to a stop before the gates and gave a soft sigh before glancing over to the man on his left. Designer suit. Designer sunglasses. Designer shoes. Designer watch. Every inch of him dripped with wealth. Green eyes slid away and refocused on the driveway.

“Whoa… Can we go in?”

“Of course, Mr. Jones. If you’ll give me a moment to get the lock open.” He paused as a hand rested on his elbow.

“Artie, I’ve told you so many times! Call me Alfred!”

Arthur’s eyebrows twitched. He shrugged off the hand – perfectly soft and manicured, of course – and slammed the car door perhaps a bit harder than necessary. Five days since their first meeting and he still didn’t quite know what to make of Alfred F. Jones.

He knew who Alfred was, of course. Who didn’t? He was one of the hottest up-and-coming producers that Hollywood had to offer. Peter had dragged him to Alfred’s latest film as a chaperone for him and his friends not even a month ago. To say it had been a shock when the sunkissed American waltzed into the town council building would have been an understatement. Arthur had barely managed to school his expression into one of cool neutrality during Alfred’s walk from the door to his desk. Alfred had quickly won over the rest of the office with his bright smiles and silver tongue, but Arthur refused to be swayed so easily. He glared at the old estate house through the wrought-iron gate as he shoved it open.

“I guess not many people come here often, huh?” Alfred commented when he returned to the car.

“What?”

“Looked like the gate was giving you some trouble.”

Arthur stepped on the gas. “Not at all. You’ll have to excuse our sleepier attitude,” he said. His voice cut through the air. “We don’t do things at the same breakneck pace you’re no doubt used to.”

Alfred didn’t notice the tone and just laughed. “I don’t mind. It’ll be nice to slow down.” He leaned forward as they approached the front entrance and gaped at the manor. “This is incredible.”

“It does have its charm, despite practically falling apart.”

Alfred jumped from the car the moment it stopped moving. He switched out his designer sunglasses for regular – though still designer – frames and strode towards the stone staircase. The day was clear and cloudless, though a weak winter chill lingered in the early April air. Alfred seemed unaffected by it and hadn’t bothered to bring a jacket.

Following at a slower pace, Arthur kept his eyes on the man rather than the house. Even without facing him, he knew what sort of expression those blue eyes held. He buttoned up his coat and crossed his arms as he came to a stop next to the American.

“And it’s really mine?” Alfred asked.

“No. You still have to submit your plans and even then, the chances of the council allowing you to buy it back are slim.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alfred waved off the words and took another step forward. “Can we go inside?”

“I have a key, yes.”

Arthur took the lead up the steps. Despite its age the key twisted smoothly in the lock, and the door was open within seconds. It was a heavy door of carved wood panels, reinforced with iron on the inside and fireproofed. Through the door was the large entrance hall, complete with a grand curved staircase. A layer of dust lingered over everything in sight but the metal details on the doorknobs and light fixtures still gleamed dully in the sunlight. Though old and weathered, the exterior of the house had stood up to the elements so everything inside was relatively well-preserved.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a while,” Alfred noted.

“The estate does sit empty most of the time. There’s a yearly inspection for any age damage and a gardener comes out in the spring, summer, and fall, but the council just doesn’t have the money for proper upkeep of the place.”

“So, is everything exactly how it was when my family left?”

Arthur followed Alfred as the American walked through to the living rooms. It was still hard to reconcile the fact that Alfred was actually a Fowler, though the DNA test and certificates couldn’t lie.

“Not exactly. The house was most certainly looted around the time of the war so a lot of the smaller pieces are missing, but most of the furniture has endured. If your project gets approved, it’ll be up to you to decide whether you want to find replacements or not.”

“Are there pictures?”

“Pictures?”

Alfred waved a hand around as he looped through the rooms, taking everything in. “Of the place before World War II. When my family was still here and stuff.”

“I believe there are a few. I’d have to dig through the archives for them and any possible paintings.”

“Paintings? There’d be paintings?”

Arthur snorted. “Of course there would be. A rich family like this in those times would have for sure commissioned something, whether it be the estate in general or portraits. They’d be a bit harder to track down, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks, Arthur! That would be awesome.”

“This is my job, after all,” Arthur told him, rolling his eyes. He stepped through to a smaller room off to the side. Bookshelves took up three of the four walls, though they were mostly empty. The final wall held a large stone fireplace. The mantle above it was stone as well, with dragons carved on either end of it.

“Whoa…” Alfred’s eyes widened as he laid eyes on it.

“Hmm?”

“No, it’s just that my mom used to tell me a story about how her grandpa was born under the watch of two dragons. I guess that must mean he was born in this room.”

“It’s certainly possible. Shall we go upstairs and then look at the kitchen and back garden?”

Alfred glanced around the room once more. “Sounds good.”

Arthur led the way through the house this time. Occasionally Alfred would have a question about the design or function of something they saw and the Brit did his best to answer, but he knew less about the house than he would have liked. There were seventeen rooms in total, fewer than most manors from the time period; Alfred seemed charmed either way. His excitement only grew as he saw the grounds outside and the ruins of the stable.

“This is seriously awesome. It’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah! This gives us the perfect opportunity for this place to have a really stable – hah – income! Get it? Cuz there’s a stable?”

Arthur pursed his lips and had to refrain from sighing. “So…what about the stable?”

“Well, it’s already here, right? And it looks like it’s in good condition. So instead of converting it into anything we’ll just give it a bit of a touch-up and it can be a boarding yard!” Alfred strode down the aisle, counting. “There are twenty stalls here. That’s good, that’ll bring in a decent amount, and the grounds are big enough that we could easily put in three riding rings, maybe even four. I’m sure there are some really nice trails around here too.”

“You’d have to hire someone separate to run the boarding yard. Unless you have secret qualifications?”

Alfred shrugged. “That’s one more person I can give a job to.”

Arthur did give a small sigh and looked away. “You do seem sincere in this…” he murmured.

“Huh?” Alfred walked over to him. “You say something?”

“No. Have you seen your fill?”

“For now.” The producer laughed. “Though at the end of this I’ll probably be sick of it.”

“If you’re allowed to do it.”

“You know, you shouldn’t be so negative all the time, Artie.” Alfred gave him a mock-serious look. “If you scowl too much your face will stick like that, which would be a shame.”

“Why would it be a shame?” Arthur asked, the furrow between his brows only deepening.

“Cuz I’m sure you’d look even cuter when you smile!” Alfred said brightly, then started down the aisle again. “Anyway, it’s good that I’ll be sick of it. You know, you’ve only done a good and thorough job on a project if you can barely stand to look at it at the end. Huh? Artie?” Upon reaching the door, he paused and turned back to look at Arthur, who hadn’t moved. “Are you coming?”

Arthur shook himself and ducked his head. “Yes. Are you satisfied with this visit?” he asked as he drew level with Alfred.

“Obviously I’d like to see more, but I’m sure I’ll get the opportunity for that soon.” Alfred had a carefree smile on his face as they walked back to the car. “Have you got more work to do today?”

“I do. Why do you ask?”

“Mmm, no reason. I’ll get started on the official proposal tonight. When do you need it by?”

“As soon as possible, ideally.”

“Got it. I’ll get it to you by Monday. Will that work? I have to make a few calls.”

Arthur shrugged. “Monday is fine. This house has stood for a few centuries. Three more days won’t make a difference, and it’s not like the council has specific plans for it otherwise.”

Alfred nodded, serious again. “Monday morning, then. At nine on the dot.”

“Make that half eleven. We have meetings in the morning.”

“Deal.”

* * *

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Arthur threw down the proposal and glared.

Alfred looked up from his phone. He blinked. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What isn’t wrong with it? This is- It’s unacceptable. A lovely script for a film, but that’s all it is. A story.”

“It’s not! I even got my half-brother to help me run calculations, he teaches math at an Ivy League school, you know, so there’s no way his numbers are wrong.” Alfred leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “Why are you objecting so much to it? You don’t have to put anything into it.”

“That’s the point, Jones!” Arthur raked his eyes over the stack of papers.

“I would have thought that was the most enticing part, you know.” Alfred’s chin jerked up and his voice took on a smug tone. “Small village council gets an event space and a piece of history restored and they don’t have to put a dime towards it. A blessing for their own budget.”

Arthur read between the lines and his glower only strengthened. If only the rest of the office could see Alfred’s ‘rich little prick’ side. “This isn’t America. This isn’t Hollywood.” There were a few places he so desperately wanted to tell Alfred to shove his money but refrained. “If you don’t like it here, then leave. You’ve caused enough of a circus. We don’t need your charity, so you can tuck yourself into bed at night and imagine you made a difference.”

“Arthur, I’m serious about this.”

The Brit scoffed. “No one is altruistic enough to put possibly thirty million pounds of their own money towards renovating a manor for the good of a village in a country they don’t live in.”

“But I do live here now,” Alfred said.

“Unfortunately,” Arthur muttered.

“Huh? What was that?”

“Nothing.” Arthur sighed and picked up the proposal again. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“It’s my family home.” Alfred shrugged. “I can, and I want to. It can become a really cool place.”

“Bullshit. Why?”

Alfred blinked again. “You don’t believe me.”

“Of course not. Is it publicity? Are you trying to make yourself ‘hard to get’ in the producing world to drive your paycheck up? Or do you want to break into British and European film and simply wish to cause a stir first so people know your name and think fondly of it before you ever sit down in the producer’s chair?”

“It’s not about the money. It’s about my family.”

“Your family is in the States, Mr. Jones. Your family hasn’t occupied Fowler Hall in nearly a century. You have no personal bonds to that house.”

“The history is there,” Alfred argued. “And I happen to like history.”

“Let me guess, you’re one of those fanboys of the World Wars who know every plane, tank, and gun model used because those are ‘cool’ facts to sprout.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“You do if you want my help in presenting this proposal.”

Alfred blew out a long sigh and slumped in his seat. “You’re already pretty dead set against me.”

“I’m still waiting for you to prove your true intentions.”

Silence descended heavily over the office. Arthur watched Alfred while Alfred traced the whorls in the wood of the desk with his eyes. After a few moments, Arthur started reading through the proposal for a fourth time, as if it would yield new information or insight. As if he could glean Alfred’s heart behind the black and white lines. His clock ticked away quietly in the corner, while the bustle of the lunch rush floated in through the cracked-open window. Arthur hadn’t eaten anything since seven in the morning, though he ignored his stomach.

“Have you seen my movies?” Alfred suddenly asked.

Arthur’s eyes froze on the page, then slowly lifted. “Your movies.”

“Yeah. Have you seen ‘em?”

“One or two. I’m not particularly interested in superhero films.”

“Hey, that’s where the big money is these days.”

“That sentiment is not helping your case.”

“I don’t mean those, though. Do you know how I started out? Why I got into making movies in general?”

Arthur sat back in his chair. One of his eyebrows arched. “Do enlighten me.”

“The first movies I worked on were period pieces and documentaries. Historical stuff and places and things that interested me. I like stories, I always have. I think this place has a story to tell, and I wanna be there for it.”

“Hence the filming,” Arthur said slowly.

“Hence the filming,” Alfred agreed. “That is the only selfish part of this whole project. I want to make a documentary of the restoration. Not for the publicity, though it’s bound to happen, but for myself. I’ve been doing big budget movies for more than half of my movie career now.” He looked down and clenched his fist over his knee. “I want to go back to simple.”

Arthur’s eyes widened fractionally as understanding washed over him. “I see. You’re afraid.”

Alfred’s head jerked up. “Kind of. You’re gonna laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Promise you won’t.”

Arthur suddenly got the sense of a late summer night, of two young boys under a blanket with only a torch and the stars to illuminate their faces. This moment held that same childlike seriousness, the weight of hushed stories and secrets spilled in the darkest hours of the morning.

“I won’t laugh.” He wet his lips and tidied up the stack of papers on his desk.

Alfred inspected him for a moment more, then nodded. “I am scared, I guess. I get the sense that if I don’t do something drastic soon, I’ll get stuck in a box, get typecast as a certain kind of person for the rest of my life. Big blockbuster movies make big money, but they have a formula. You seem like the kind of guy who’s already figured it out though, right?” He gave a crooked smile.

“I suppose.”

“Knew it. I’m not…bold.” Alfred said, and he glared when Arthur gave a small chuckle.

“No, I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just, you made quite the bold statement when you marched into the office and announced yourself as inheritor of the Hall.”

“Hah, I guess so.” Alfred dragged his hand through his hair. “But that was the boldest thing I’ve done in years. Moving here out of nowhere- when I told Mattie my plans, he thought I’d lost it. Still…I can’t help feeling like I need to do this. I have the money to do something entirely in my vision, both movie-wise and in restoring the Hall. And yeah, yeah, I’ll need the council’s approval and probably a babysitter, so I don’t send the village into a conniption at the end of it, but it’ll be my dream, truly mine. I’ve learned a lot since my last documentary, so I want to see how good I can make it now. Restoration projects are incredible and full of twists and discoveries. I want to capture that and draw out the story of the Hall, not only from the past, but the story of how we save it.”

Arthur was silent for a moment, allowing himself to mull over the speech. “And that is how you truly feel?” he asked eventually.

“Honest to God.”

“Hmm. Well, if we take into account that your motivations are entirely pure and everything you laid out is how it will happen, the project looks like a sound one. On paper, it’s a great opportunity for both the village and the Hall.”

“So, you’ll back me up?”

“Congratulations, Jones. You’ve swayed me. Now you’ll just have to keep that trust.” Arthur sighed and slid the proposal away. “I’ll also be your ‘babysitter’, as you put it, since I deal with everything historical.”

“You sound so pleased.” Alfred was smiling widely, though.

“I’m ecstatic,” Arthur deadpanned. At that moment, both of their stomachs growled and the two exchanged a look. “Shall we get lunch? We can start on creating a PowerPoint afterwards.”

“Sounds good.”

* * *

 

“Congratulations.”

Alfred sagged against the wall. “I think that was the most intense meeting I’ve ever attended in my life.”

“Oh, come on.” Arthur snorted. “This is a tiny village in England. I highly doubt there was more pressure in that room than when you were signing onto multi-million dollar movies.”

“It was a different kind of pressure.” Alfred took in a deep breath. He was still holding on to the folder that held his presentation notes. His fingers were tight against it, and when he straightened out again, a broad smile broke over his face. “I feel so good right now.”

Arthur’s lips quirked upwards in amusement. “Do tell me, do you feel such a thrill each time you spend five million pounds on something?”

“Nope! I’m surprised they sold it to me for that low, considering everything. Hey, can I leave this in your office for now?” Alfred tapped the folder against Arthur’s shoulder.

“For now? Any reason you can’t take it home with you?”

“Because we’re going out!”

Arthur’s steps faltered momentarily. “Excuse me?” He then strode more quickly down the hallway, so Alfred wouldn’t be able to see his brief flush.

“To celebrate! C’mon, my treat, but you’ve gotta pick the place. I still don’t know the best pub around here.” Alfred bounded after him and dropped his notes onto Arthur’s desk when they were in his office again. By now, he was intimately familiar with the room. He and Arthur had spent the last three days practically nonstop inside it creating the presentation and trying to predict and build counters for objections the council might voice.

“Ah- I see,” Arthur murmured. He let out a breath and crossed his arms. “And why do you assume I’d want to go to the pub with you?”

“Because we worked together on this? And you’re my babysitter now too. Officially. So you should babysit.” Alfred’s voice was honey sweet.

“Yes, and I’m regretting every decision in my life that led to this moment,” Arthur replied mildly.

Alfred just laughed. “C’mon, don’t be like that. If it helps, you can think about it as me repaying you for your help with the presentation.”

After some consideration, Arthur nodded. “Alright. But I’m only doing this because I have a sinking suspicion you wouldn’t give me a second’s peace if I didn’t just give in.”

“That’s the spirit!” Alfred was still chuckling as he followed Arthur to his car. “So, where are we going?”

Arthur nodded to the people on the street he recognized and didn’t speak until they were on the road. “The Silver Stag. It’s a pub on the edge of town, practically in the woods. Nice and quiet, but the food and drink are good.”

“Your usual haunt, I’m guessing?”

“Yes. My friends and I meet there once a week, but I sometimes pop in on my own.”

Alfred gasped. “You have friends?”

“Oh, shut up.” Arthur rolled his eyes, and if he stopped the car more abruptly than usual at the next crossing, well.

Alfred didn’t notice. He was staring out the window instead, watching the fields and hedges and sheep pass by. A few tall hills dotted the horizon, and he could spot some houses even near the summits.

“It’s gorgeous here.”

“Different to America?” Arthur had visited a few times, but always the East Coast and always big cities.

“Yeah. The whole atmosphere in Europe is different. I like it,” Alfred said softly.

Arthur watched him for a moment. There was part of him that still didn’t trust this polished American, didn’t quite believe that Alfred would willingly trade high-tech Hollywood for a sleepy town in rural England, but even he couldn’t deny that the emotions behind Alfred’s voice were real.

“I don’t really see what’s special about it, but I suppose if you grow up somewhere, you get used to it.”

“Probably.” Alfred’s eyes were still far away.

Arthur turned his attention back to the road, and five minutes later slowed as the signpost for the Silver Stag came into view.

“We’re here.”

As promised, the edges of the forest crowded the perimeter of the pub. The building itself was mostly in the shadow of the trees. It was a big building, two storeys and Tudor style. A steel stag pranced over the doorway, while a painted white counterpart adorned the sign by the road.

Alfred nodded and swept his gaze over the pub. “I like it.”

“I’m glad it has your approval.”

They were seated ten minutes later in the back corner of the pub. Already three people, including their server, had recognized the American, and Arthur kissed his hopes for a nice quiet meal goodbye. He ignored the borderline flirtatious conversation happening across the table from him and focused on the menu. He had it practically memorized at that point, but it gave him something else to focus on. The strange tightness in his chest expanded the longer the conversation went on, and he finally snapped the menu shut.

“Shall we order drinks?”

Alfred’s attention snapped to him. “Oh, right.” He gave the server a smile. “Coke for me, please. No ice.”

“And for you, Mr. Kirkland?” the server asked with a grin.

Arthur ignored her. “Alfred, can you drive here?”

“Uh.” Alfred blinked. “Maybe? I’ve never done it.”

“I see.” Arthur resisted the urge to groan. Alcohol would have to wait. “In that case, just tea.”

“I’ll have them out for you in a few minutes.”

Alfred opened up the menu when they were alone. “Are all these like, traditional pub dishes?”

“Yes. Traditional English dishes as well.”

“Awesome. I propose a quest.” Alfred’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses.

One of Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “A quest?”

“By the time we finish renovating the Hall, I’m gonna have tried every single thing on this menu,” Alfred declared. “Will you join me on it?”

“…How old are you, exactly?”

“Thirty-two! But you’re never too old to go on a quest.”

Arthur shook his head and hid his small smile behind the menu. “I think working on all those action movies has addled your brain. Although, I suppose, as your babysitter, I should accompany you.”

Alfred beamed. “We’ll start at the top then. Do you have a pen?”

“I hope you’re not planning on marking up the menu,” Arthur said as he handed one over.

“Nah.” Alfred grabbed a fistful of napkins and spread them on the table. “Let’s brainstorm. We’ve still got a lot of stuff to do.”

Arthur watched on in amusement. “What happened to the celebration?”

“We can celebrate and plan at the same time.” Alfred started scribbling. “I’ll get the cameras and stuff here, we’ll need about three or four, let’s make it four, and eight guys to work them, then. We’ll need volunteers, too, maybe thirty? What do you think?”

Their server was back with their drinks before Arthur could answer. He slowly stirred milk and sugar into his tea as he considered.

“The number of volunteers doesn’t matter. You’ll still need to hire professionals alongside them. A builder, plumber, electrician, and landscaper at least. Perhaps even two builders, one for the main house and one for the stable.”

“I know. Could you ask the people in your office for local recommendations? I want to make this as much of a small-town effort as possible.” The pen flew over the surface of the napkin. “The volunteers would mostly be doing stuff at the beginning and end of the project. Cataloguing and moving furniture, clearing all the dust and stuff, just stuff like that.”

“Around thirty should be enough, in that case. I’ll have a look around for self-storage options for you as well.”

The pen stopped. “No. I need you to dig up everything you can on Fowler Hall. Every record, every story, even receipts and journals.”

Arthur examined the man before him. He was completely serious, two napkins already filled with notes and plans. The Brit’s gaze lingered on the tip of his tongue, poked out between his lips from concentration. He quickly looked away. “That might take some time, if I’m on my own.”

“Then get help. I’ll pay them, if it’s necessary. We’ll also need to figure out what sorts of things are missing from the Hall and get around to finding replacements and restoring whatever needs that… Do you have any ideas?”

“…No.” Arthur swallowed and cast his gaze to the wall next to them.

“Damn. Alright, I’ll have a look around the area.”

“You might want to take a few driving lessons. I won’t be able to play chauffeur for you the whole time.”

Alfred blinked. “That’s a good idea! I wouldn’t have thought of that. Do you know someone?”

This, Arthur could help with. “I’ll text you the details later. Let’s order food before you get too carried away.”

“Good idea. What are you gonna have? I’ll go up and order.”

“I’m sure she’ll come around again soon.”

“Nah, no time to waste.” Alfred gave him a smile and stood. “I scribbled out a rough timeframe for the next two weeks, if you wanna take a look at it.” He pushed one of the napkins across the table.

“Thank you. Cod and chips for me, then. With gravy, without vinegar.” Arthur was dimly aware of Alfred leaving as he scanned the scrawled lines. _Nxt 2 days find storage driving lessons and get list of builders & co. Nxt 4 days decide builders & co talk to Art about volunteers find Art assistants. Nxt week cameras & crew arrive film before shots start catalogue. 2 weeks start prepping Hall. Find ppl for replacement features/fixer uppers._ The last line was underlined. Arthur traced it with his finger and scowled. This would be a tiring few months, he thought as he watched Alfred weave his way back to their table.

* * *

 

“What kind of town name is Velvet Well anyway?”

Arthur glanced to him briefly, then refocused his attention on the road. He cleared his throat. “The name dates back to the early sixteen-seventies. The Velvet family were the first to settle in the area and discovered a natural spring. They dug a well there and built their house nearby. That house still stands, as does the original well, though it’s not used to draw water anymore and is merely decorative. You can find both near the centre of town, if you’d like to visit. Though not everything is original, we’ve tried to keep the aesthetic as close as possible. In any case, as time went on and more people build on the land, they’d say they were near the Velvet Well in letters and journals. The Velvets were quite well-known and wealthy. Over time, the name stuck.”

Alfred whistled. “You sure know your history.”

“That is my job, after all.”

“And my family?”

“The Fowlers arrived nearly a century later, in the seventeen-fifties. They were even wealthier than the Velvets and they liked the land. It’s a good spot. Close enough to a larger city for convenience, yet far enough away that there’s peace and quiet for those who desire it. Fowler Hall was completed by the late seventeen-seventies and the family was in residence until they were falsely accused of supporting the rise of fascism between the World Wars and fled to the States.”

“Falsely accused?”

“Yes. Your great-great or whatever aunt frequently travelled to Germany and people started getting suspicious. It later came out that she was visiting her lover, as well as conducting underground investigations as to the political state. She first brought her lover here to England once it became too dangerous in Berlin, but not even a year after that the whole family left for New York for fear of their lives. Fowler Hall was left to the council and so it has remained until now.”

“How can they be sure my aunt was falsely accused?”

Arthur glanced to him. “Her lover was a woman. I believe you know what happened to gays during the war. Besides, there are government correspondences that proved she was working on our side.”

“Whoa. That’s intense.”

“It is.”

“You also know more about my family history than I do.”

“So it seems.” The corners of Arthur’s lips turned up. “I can teach you in more detail later, if you’d like. I’d have to verify it with the archives to get all of the smaller details.”

“I’d like that.”

“You seem fired up.” Arthur looked at him again, noted the spark in his eyes.

“It’s a good piece of history. I’m itching to find out more. Can practically see a script in my head.”

“Another documentary?”

“Nah. Period piece this time, with all the appropriate dram.” Alfred grinned. “Speaking of the documentary though, I’ve got a favour to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Would you be willing to do the narration?”

Arthur blinked. “Me? Why?”

“Oh, come on, you’re perfect for it. You’re passionate about history and know your stuff. You’ve lived here nearly your whole life, you’re on the council, and…”

“And?” Arthur thought he saw Alfred’s cheeks pinking, though he didn’t understand why.

“You have a really nice voice. You could listen for hours and not get bored.”

Oh. Arthur’s own face heated, and he ducked his head a bit in the hopes that his fringe would conceal it. “I-I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

The rest of the drive to the Hall passed in silence. A good fifteen people swarmed around the front doors as they pulled up. Arthur counted two camera crews as well as the builder’s van and two trucks. Everyone was congregated around the vehicles, and Arthur and Alfred would have joined them if not for the car pulling in behind them. The Brit’s eyes narrowed.

“What are you three doing here?” Arthur asked flatly when the newcomers got out, crossing his arms.

Gilbert and Francis smirked, while Antonio simply grinned and waved.

“Now, Arthur, is that any way to speak to your loving partners?” Francis purred, snaking an arm around Arthur’s shoulders as soon as he was in reach.

Alfred’s eyes widened, and he coughed a few times. A strange expression crossed his face, but it was gone seconds later. “Partners?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and ducked away from the contact. “Business partners, unfortunately.”

“We’re here because Alfred needs our help, obviously.” Gilbert’s smirk only stretched wider.

“That won’t be an issue, will it?” Antonio asked.

Arthur glanced between the three of them and Alfred. “It shouldn’t be. I haven’t mentioned anything, so he found you of his own accord.”

Alfred only frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I said business partners, didn’t I? Before I became part of the council I opened the Antiques Warehouse with the three of them. Since it wasn’t solely my business it wasn’t counted as a conflict of interest that could hinder my council position, though the other members prefer it if I don’t mention it at all in matters such as this. It wouldn’t be right to drum up business using my council seat.”

“Oh.” Alfred masked his surprise behind a grin. “That’s cool. It’s a cool place. I didn’t know you were involved beforehand so it’s fine. But even if I did know, it’s logical to use you guys, right?”

“From the sounds of it this whole project is different to anything this village is used to, so I don’t think it’s an issue,” Francis said, shrugging. “Arthur is always cautious, though. The store was his dream and he does not want to lose it.”

“That’s understandable. Hey, you’ll have to tell me more about it later. What exactly you do and stuff.” Alfred suddenly paused. “Wait, were you lying the other day in the pub? When I asked about the replacement stuff?”

Arthur drew back. “I take both of my jobs very seriously. I did, and I apologize for lying to you, but I’m not going to put myself in jeopardy for you.”

Alfred raised both hands into the air. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not accusing you of anything. I can understand why you did it, I was just curious.”

“Alright…” Arthur still looked suspicious, and after a moment he walked off towards the builders.

Francis sidled up to the American instead. “By ‘the pub’, do you mean the Silver Stag?”

“Yeah.” Alfred glanced to him. “Wait, you’re the friends he meets up with?”

Gilbert and Antonio joined the pair, the albino placing his hands over his heart. “Aww, he called us friends? He’s growing up so fast.” He pretended to wipe away a tear.

“Indeed.” Francis glanced between Arthur and Alfred, his blue eyes sharp. “You’ll have to tell us all about your date later, Mr. Jones. God knows we won’t get anything out of our cute little Brit.”

Heat shot up into Alfred’s face. “I-It wasn’t a date. We were just celebrating the proposal-”

Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio’s eyebrows all shot up.

“Shit- Business proposal, it was a _business proposal_ about the Hall and it went well, and we were planning a timeline-”

Antonio patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Mr. Jones.” He gave a sigh. “Though it would be good for Arthur to date…”

“N-No need to call me Mr. Jones, just Alfred’s alright. ‘Mr. Jones was my father’ and all that, haha.” Alfred tugged at the short hairs at the back of his neck. He looked after Arthur. “Is he…”

Pale blue eyes glanced to him. “Is he…?”

Alfred shook himself. “Nah, nothing. It’s nothing. So, do you have game plans for today? We’re gonna do some filming first to capture the Hall as it is now so you’ll have to wait until after that, but what are you guys gonna do?” He pulled up a memo on his phone.

“I’m gonna walk the perimeter first,” Gilbert said, pointing behind him at the gates. “There’s a lot of metalwork there, so I’m gonna check it out and note any parts that need to be replaced. I’ll move inside after that, give Franny and Tony a chance to get through most of their stuff.”

“I’ll be in the kitchens and bathrooms, mostly. That’s where ninety percent of tiles and ceramics are going to be. I’ll need to check the condition of everything and note how many casts I’ll have to make.” Antonio fished out a camera from his pocket with a smile. “I’ll note all of the designs too, and in the next few days I’ll try to replicate them.” The smile sharpened. “Please let everyone know to be extra careful around the tile. If I have nothing to go by it will make my job much harder.”

Alfred blinked. “Will do.” He watched Antonio relax again, then turned to Francis. “And you?”

“I will be looking at the whole house. My speciality is furniture, so I will have to catalogue everything and mark down whether or not each piece will have to be restored or replaced. You will receive my notes and make the final decisions, of course. It may be more than a one-day job for me.”

“I could help,” Alfred said once he’d finished typing up his notes on the screen.

Francis’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Yeah. Once filming is done I’ll have to wait until my guys format it and send the files to me to look over with the editor. Plus, it’ll go more quickly if I can give you the okay or not on the spot, right?”

“Indeed. I will welcome your company, in that case.” The Frenchman glanced over to Arthur. “He is, by the way.”

“He-?” Alfred followed his gaze. “Oh. That’s…good.”

“You should try and convince him to oversee the replacement of any missing decorations. He has a good eye for antiques. He’ll hem and haw about ‘conflict of interest’, but you’ll find no one better.”

“I’ll give it my best shot, but he might not listen to me.”

Francis smiled. “Something tells me he will. Shall we start the day?”

Arthur was waiting for them at the edge of the group, his arms still crossed, and his brow furrowed. Alfred gave him a smile as he approached, though his head was still buzzing with the words Francis had said to him.

* * *

 

Arthur dumped a stack of documents onto his desk. Behind it, Alfred jolted awake. The Brit shook his head.

“This is the last of it. All the mentions I found of Fowler Hall.” Four identical stacks were already scattered around the desk.

“That’s a lot.” Alfred blinked owlishly over them and picked up his mug. He paused with it halfway to his mouth, then stared down into the empty bottom.

“Like I said before, the Fowlers were rich. There’s a lot to do with them. I’ve also taken the liberty of gathering up all information on the Fowler family. I figured you would want some of your family history to go into your documentary too.”

“Yeah. We’re out of coffee.”

“Then make more. I’m not your assistant.”

“Speaking of assistants, yours will be starting tomorrow.” Alfred tried to hide a yawn.

“How many?” Arthur turned around to mask one of his own. “Stop that.”

“Can’t help it. There’s two of ‘em. That enough?”

“That should be fine.” Arthur glanced at the darkness behind the window. “Come on, it’s late. Do you need me to drop you off home?” He was aware of eyes on him, and steadfastly ignored the sensation. Alfred had been staring at him with increasing frequency since their last visit to the Hall.

“I’d appreciate it.” Alfred stood and stretched, giving a happy groan when his back and elbows popped.

Arthur watched him from the corner of his eye as he stood and dropped the mug into the communal office’s sink. “Oi. Wash that. Marie is starting to get annoyed.”

“Whoops. Guess there’s still things I’m not used to.” Alfred turned on the tap and waited a few seconds for the water to warm up.

“Indeed. You’re…getting better, though.” At the beginning, Alfred had expected everything to be done for him and didn’t hesitate to bark out orders. Now, though, he was starting to do more for himself, even if it was a small thing like making his own coffee.

“Really?” Somehow, even at this late hour, Alfred managed to brighten. “I’ve never worked in or with such a small office, but I like it. Feels intimate.”

Arthur’s stomach lurched. “Intimate?”

“Personal. Everyone knows everyone’s business.” Alfred waved a hand, sending a few splatters up the cupboards. A few seconds later, he shut off the water and placed the mug onto the drying rack.

“That can be both a good and bad thing,” Arthur said as he grabbed his coat.

“I guess.” Alfred followed him out of the office, close enough that occasionally their arms would brush.

Arthur quickened his pace once they were out of the building. His arm tingled where he’d felt Alfred’s and he had to suppress the thoughts that came rushing up to the surface. He knew Alfred was single by now, thanks to the nosiness of the older ladies in the office, but- “How’s the footage? Did you get enough?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. In a few days I’m gonna map out the property with the camera crew to find a few spots where we can get time-lapse shots. Maybe take some shots of the village too. We’ll have to mention it as well.”

Arthur sighed as he got into his car. “So I’ll have to dig that up too? Though I should have expected it, I suppose…” His voice trailed off into a mutter.

“Sorry. You could ask one of the other council members maybe?”

“Unfortunately, they don’t know the archives as well as I do. It’s fine. I’ll have those assistants start on the Hall documents tomorrow while I go digging.”

Alfred bit his lip. “What about the person who previously had your position?”

Arthur snorted. “Incompetent idiot. He let the archives dissolve into madness. It was like a bomb had exploded in there when I arrived. I spent the first six months of my term just bringing order to them.”

“Oh. Art, I really am sorry-”

“It’s alright.” Arthur glanced to him. His lips quirked upwards, and he was glad for the darkness in the car. Alfred’s house was on the edge of town, and the night only encroached on them more as he drove. “If I really minded, I wouldn’t do it.” He didn’t mind more and more when it came to Alfred’s requests.

“Okay.” Alfred was quiet until the car came to a stop a few minutes later. He didn’t move to get out. “Don’t get angry again.”

Arthur’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Alfred…” he warned. He had a sinking feeling he knew where this discussion was going.

“I was just wondering if you thought more about it.”

“My answer remains the same.”

“I need you for this. I really do.”

Arthur’s gaze snapped to him. “Why? I’m sure there are plenty of competent people out there-”

“It has to be you. It’s your job, right?”

“My secondary job. One that, might I remind you, is already inching towards very dangerous territory.”

“Don’t be dramatic, you’re fine. It’s fine.” Alfred huffed. “You’re the only one I want to do this. Francis said-”

“Oh, and because _Francis_ said so, it’s alright to put me at risk?”

“You’re not going to be at risk! Anyone with any common sense should be able to see why I’d want you to handle it. This isn’t some big national or international thing where it matters if you happen to-”

“‘Where it matters’?” Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “It matters to me.” His voice was very quiet. “I know this is a small town and it doesn’t even register as a blip on your radar, but it matters to me. To us, to anyone who lives here. Don’t you dare fucking say it doesn’t matter.”

“That came out wrong. Hold on. Just- Hold on for two minutes.” Alfred let out a deep breath and hunched over, his hands fisting in his hair.

Arthur didn’t want to hold on for two minutes. He didn’t want to hold on for two seconds, but he wasn’t strong enough to shove Alfred out of his car, so he sat back in his seat with a huff and glared straight ahead.

“I’m sorry,” Alfred said after two minutes and thirteen seconds had passed. “I didn’t mean it in that way.”

“Then how did you mean it?” Arthur’s jaw was still clenched.

“I just… The council agreed that this whole project was like nothing they’d ever seen before. Nothing on this big of a scale has happened in Velvet Well for a long time, if ever. They’re gonna look at things differently. I bet they knew you’d end up entangled in a lot more than expected before they made you the council’s liaison. I enlisted the help of the KBBC Antiques Warehouse before I knew you were involved. That’s on record. But you’re good with the antiques-antiques part of it. I need that expertise. You’re not gonna get in trouble for it, I promise.”

“How can you be sure?” Arthur asked hoarsely.

Alfred looked at him and saw the fear behind his anger. “I’ll hire a lawyer if you want.” He reached out slowly and placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m not gonna let you lose one or both of your jobs without one hell of a fight, though I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

“Do you know how much work that will be?”

“No, not really. I’m not the expert here.” Alfred tried a smile.

Arthur’s eyes slid to him, then back to the windshield. “I’m going to have to pour through any and all photographs and compare every inch of them to the modern footage to find out what could be missing. For the rooms without any photographic evidence, I’m going to have to infer the stylistic choices that might have been taken from what’s left. You’re probably going to have to get more footage of every room just for that purpose. Once that’s done and I have a list, I’ll have to hunt down possibly hundreds of items, as close to the originals – or what the originals would have been – as I can. This might mean road trips across the country or to other parts of Europe. I’ll have to arrange travel and insurance, not to mention come up with a complete cost plan. You’ll need separate storage for the items as well. And you want me to do this while also gathering information on Fowler Hall, on the village, create a narration script of the information, and also record it, not to mention report back to the council on your progress and keep an eye on you to make sure the decisions you make will not negatively impact the village.”

“I’ll help you,” Alfred told him immediately.

Arthur laughed. “How? You’re already going to have your hands full with filming and overseeing everything.”

“I’m already going through the furniture with Francis, and it’s been going fine.” Alfred thought he heard Arthur mutter something about ‘Francis again,’ but he ignored it. “I can get you more assistants to work through the files if you need them. And I’ll accompany you on the road trips. I wanted to see more of England, and this is the perfect way. Plus, I’ll be able to offer you a second opinion on the pieces, not that I think you really need it or I don’t trust your judgement, not at all! It just might be…welcome?”

Arthur finally turned to face him properly. His expression was unreadable, but there was less anger in the lines of his body. “Then you’ll be overworking yourself.”

“It’ll be fine. Assistants, remember? You may not be used to them, but they’re miracle workers.”

“They also seem to be your solution to everything,” Arthur said flatly.

“They’re a good solution,” Alfred protested. He then sighed, his body relaxing against the seat. “I won’t push you if you’re really insistent about not doing it, but I want you to think about it- really think about it. You’re my first choice for it, and I promise nothing bad’s gonna happen to you.”

Arthur stared at him for a moment. He let out a small sigh too, and his shoulders slumped. “I will think about it. Seriously, this time.” He had to avert his eyes from the bright smile that spread over Alfred’s lips. “You should go now. You need to sleep.”

“Aww, are you worried about me?”

“It’s past midnight, that’s all,” Arthur said haughtily.

Alfred just laughed and pulled him into a hug. It lasted only a second, and then he was out of the car. “Night, Artie!” he called before shutting the door and turning towards his house.

Arthur sat frozen in his seat long after Alfred had gone inside. His heart galloped in his chest and his left side was still tingling from the contact. “Get it together, Arthur,” he murmured, uselessly.

He drove slowly home, not trusting himself to go faster than thirty kilometres per hour.

* * *

 

“Really?” Alfred’s voice carried throughout the room, and the smile on his face was possibly the brightest one yet.

“Keep your voice down,” Arthur hissed, glancing around. None of the other patrons paid them any attention. He picked up his teacup and took another sip. “But yes, really. You can count on me for the antiques.”

Alfred’s eyes shone behind his glasses. “I could kiss you right now.”

Arthur choked. “E-Excuse me?” he sputtered out.

“Oh. I- _Shit_.” Alfred blushed and ducked his face behind the menu. “That was not supposed to come out like that,” he mumbled. “Can you forget I said that?”

Arthur’s fingertips were trembling as he set his cup down. “So you don’t- Of course.” He swallowed and lowered his gaze to the table. It was surprising, but also not, that disappointment welled within his chest. He tried to push it down. “Of course, Alfred.”

Alfred seemed to sense something behind his voice and dropped the menu. “No, no, I mean- God, I do want to kiss you, but I just wasn’t supposed to tell you like that.”

“You…do?” Arthur met his gaze, green eyes slightly widened.

“Yeah.” Alfred closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “You know what, fuck it, let’s do this now.” He grabbed Arthur’s hand and tugged him towards the door. “We’ll be back, just stepping out for a bit,” he said to one of the servers along the way, slipping her a twenty-pound note. “Could you keep an eye on our stuff? Thanks.”

“Alfred- Alf-” Arthur tried digging his heels into the ground to at least slow them down, but Alfred dragged him out into the forest with ease. “What are you doing?” He was still reeling from the turn their conversation had taken.

“Taking us somewhere with a bit more privacy,” Alfred told him, and kept walking until the Silver Stag was out of sight.

“Are you sure you’re not dragging me off to kill me?” Arthur asked, falling back onto snark.

“Arthur, this is a serious moment.” Alfred let go of him and turned so they were face to face.

All emotion fell away from Arthur’s face. “Is it, now.”

“Yeah. I… look…” Alfred’s left hand buried itself into his hair. “I’m attracted to you. Romantically, sexually, the whole deal. I was going to wait to tell you until later but then I had to go and just _blurt it out_ , so I thought I might as well tell you now. Will you go out with me?”

“…You can’t possibly be serious.”

Alfred blinked. “Wh- What?”

Arthur stared firmly off to the side. “What is it with you and putting me into the most difficult situations?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Perhaps, but this is not a simple situation.” Arthur heaved a frustrated sigh. “Out of all of them, this is the biggest possible conflict of interest you’ve dumped on me.”

Alfred groaned. “Oh my _God_ , are you really going on about that right now? I just confessed to you!”

“Like a shy schoolgirl, I might say.”

“Are you making fun of the way I told you I liked you?”

“You have to admit, the whole scenario reads like a high school stunt.”

“Oh my God, why do I like you?”

“You’ve been saying that quite a lot.” One of Arthur’s eyebrows arched. “‘Oh my God’.”

“Okay. Okay, no, stop. You’re avoiding the point.” Alfred took a step towards him. “Will you go out with me, Arthur?”

Arthur clenched his fists and dropped his eyes to the ground, taking a step back at the same time. “No.”

“Why not?” Alfred’s face threatened to crumble. “I could have sworn I read it right- That- That you liked me too.”

“Please stop using such childish expressions.”

“Tell me why, then!” Alfred’s chest heaved, and he spun around, walking a few steps away to put some distance between them. “Tell me why a-and I’ll just pretend that this never happened, and I won’t let it interfere with the project, but please, just tell me why.”

Arthur swallowed and allowed himself to look at Alfred’s back. “The project is precisely why,” he said softly. “You didn’t misinterpret anything, but I simply cannot go out with you. The council will have my hide if they find out, the conflict of interest would simply be too great if we were together.”

“ _Fuck_ the conflict of interest. I’m so sick of hearing those words. If they try to pin it on you, then I’ll handle it,” Alfred said forcefully, turning around again. “Arthur, I need to know. Do you have any feelings for me? Any at all?”

“I have a great many feelings for you,” Arthur said. His tone suggested that most of those feelings involved hitting Alfred over the head with something.

“A-Are any of them positive?”

Once again, Arthur found himself studying the man before him. Alfred’s breathing was still ragged, and parts of his hair stuck up in clumps from where his hand had been gripping the strands. His hands were shaking, and the intensity in his eyes was electrifying. Arthur thought he never looked hotter, and then immediately scolded himself for it. Still, Alfred had been consistently honest at every turn. In the span of a month he’d gone from mistrusted stranger, to a thorn in Arthur’s side, to someone that Arthur could count on and looked forward to seeing each day. The Brit hadn’t even realized he was falling until he couldn’t meet Alfred’s gaze, or his heart leapt into his throat when they talked, or he could feel Alfred’s every touch on his skin for hours afterwards. He lowered his gaze.

“A great many of them are positive. Romantic.” Sexual, too, though Arthur wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

“Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue is my job. The whole project could be put under scrutiny for underhand influences. If we were to fall out, it would grind to a halt with how much I’m involved.”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m looking at it logically.”

“Since when is love ever logical? We could have a falling out even if we’re not dating,” Alfred pointed out.

“The risk magnifies significantly if we’re involved.”

Alfred was silent for a few moments, studying him. “Are you a good member of the Velvet Well town council?”

“What?” Arthur stared at him.

“Do you think you’re a good council member? Do you do your job well?”

“…I’d like to think so.”

“Would the other members agree? Would the townspeople say you’ve been good to them?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think they would.” Alfred took a step towards him again. “You smile and greet everyone when we’re walking down the street. Everyone in the office trusts you and knows that they can count on you. You’ve completely reorganized the archives. You bring in breakfast every Saturday morning for everyone. You know that Marie’s daughter is eight months pregnant, and that William’s dog died a week ago. You got him flowers and listened to him talk for two hours. You’ve never mentioned KBBC to anyone who didn’t already know you’re involved. And this is just stuff you told me or I noticed.” Another step. “You’re not gonna get fired over something like this because you’re damned good at your job and everyone knows it. So please. If you feel the same way about me, take a chance on it. On us. We don’t have to be loud or overly public about it. I’m just asking for a chance to be happy with you.”

Arthur swallowed and was surprised at the tightness in his throat. He clenched his jaw and forced back the emotion threatening to spill from his eyes. “That was quite the speech,” he murmured. He had to look away. “How long have you felt this way about me?”

Alfred gave a small laugh. “Honestly? I wanted to push you up against the wall after the proposal passed.”

Head snapping up, Arthur stared at him again.

The American’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah. It only really solidified, and I was sure of it after the day we met Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio.”

“I see.”

By that point, there was barely any space between them.

“Arthur.”

“Yes?” Arthur resisted the urge to move away.

“Do you need some time to think about it? T-That’s okay too, I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy.”

“You’ve always been pushy, Alfred,” Arthur told him with a snort. “Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing, though. You’ve made it this far, after all.”

Alfred’s eyes widened. “So…?”

“So, as you so lovingly put it, fuck the conflict of interest. I’ll go out with you, and we’ll deal with what happens as it does.”

“Really? Are you really serious?”

Arthur allowed himself to smile. He reached out to brush his fingertips against Alfred’s. “I’m really serious.”

Alfred grabbed his hand and yanked him closer, throwing his other arm around Arthur’s shoulder in a half-hug. “Thank you! Oh my God, Arthur, I’m so freaking happy right now you don’t even know!”

“I think I might have an idea,” Arthur said, his face pressed to Alfred’s chest. He relaxed into the contact, though, and let the happiness bubble out from within him.

“I guess we can call our dinner tonight a date, then?”

“At the Stag?” Arthur leaned away from him, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. Is that wrong?”

“Not at all.” Arthur kept their hands clasped together. “I suppose we ought to return to our date now, then.”

“And prove that I didn’t drag you out here to kill you.”

Arthur laughed. “That too.”

* * *

 

Clouds drifted lazily across a blue sky. Arthur occasionally paused from ever so gently prying the kitchen tiles off the wall to glance out the window. Gilbert and Antonio worked alongside him. He could hear the sounds from other volunteers in other parts of the house moving furniture, wrapping up priceless ornaments, and wiping decades worth of grime off the floor and walls.

“Camera coming through!”

Arthur looked towards the door in time to see two of the camera crew entering. Alfred was behind them, his expression serious as he watched the feed on a small tablet. When the camera panned over to the Brit, he looked up and blew him a kiss. Arthur smiled in return, then ducked his head and started working on another tile.

Though he didn’t have to, and Alfred had rounded up more than enough volunteers, Arthur enjoyed stopping by the Hall to work on clearing it. After a few hours of sitting on his desk and looking through papers or staring at a computer screen, manual labour was a nice change of pace. It made him feel closer to the project and Alfred as well and allowed him to keep a closer eye on the progress for his reports to the council. So far, they hadn’t kicked up any fuss at all at the fact that he and Alfred were going out. He’d never admit it out loud, but Alfred had been right.

He could hear the camera crew’s footsteps as they walked around the room and stopped by Antonio’s side to get a closer look at the process. Alfred asked him a question and Antonio happily chattered about the tiles, the way to remove them with as little damage to them as possible, and his plans for their preservation. A few had been damaged or faded, so he would fire brand new ones. Most of the original tiles would be preserved and stored away, but with Alfred’s permission he would return a few to the walls to add a bit of charm and character. Arthur gave a snort at the eagerness with which Alfred agreed.

“Alright guys, that’s enough for now. Thanks!” Alfred told the cameramen and strolled over to Arthur’s side when they left. “Hey.”

Arthur looked up at him. “Hello yourself.”

“I didn’t see you come in.”

“In that case, surprise?”

Alfred laughed. “The best surprise.” He crouched down and pulled Arthur into a hug. “Wanna go out tonight?”

“Sure.”

“You two are gross,” Gilbert informed them. “Disgustingly sweet.”

Both Alfred and Arthur ignored him.

“Awesome.” Alfred leaned forward to press a kiss to Arthur’s hair.

“How is everything else around here?”

“Good, good. The plans for the stable and rings are coming along nicely. I’ll be looking at fencing for everything tomorrow. The upstairs is mostly cleared now, except the tiles, and so far, only one armchair has been dropped.”

“That’s good.”

“Down the staircase.”

“Oh dear.”

Alfred snickered. “It’s okay, it was one marked for replacing anyway. Francis said the seat and back legs were weakened past the point of help.”

“I’m glad it’s going smoothly for you.”

“For us.” Alfred squeezed his hand. “It’s practically our joint project with how much you’re doing.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but knew better than to argue this point. “For us, then. I’ve booked a road trip for us for next weekend. There’s an antiques exhibition in London and it will be a good place to have a cursory look around.”

“Okay. I can work with that. But when we get back you’ll have to get into the studio and start recording the narration. Your assistants have gathered enough information for us to get a good head start on the script.”

“That won’t be a problem. Now shoo. I’m busy.” Arthur pushed against him. “I’m sure you have plenty of other things to look at.”

“See you tonight then, babe.” Alfred avoided the jab to his ribs and laughed more as he retreated from the room.

Arthur felt Gilbert and Antonio’s stares, but he refused to show them his reddened face. “Not. A. Word,” he told them softly.

“Sure, sure.” Gilbert snickered but refocused on the tiles.

Arthur looked out the window again. All of the clouds had vanished, leaving the heavens clear and bright blue in their wake. He smiled, giddy at the thought of all the progress they’d made in the span of two months. For all his hesitation at every step of the way, he found he couldn’t wait to see how Alfred’s – no, _his_ and Alfred’s – project would turn out in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it! A bit of an open ending, but I didn't want to have to cram in a whole restoration/renovation project into 15k words, nor did I think I could do it justice, so that felt like a good place to stop.
> 
> Title comes from the fact that even I wanted to punch Arthur in the face towards the end because of how much he was saying something was a conflict of interest pfft-
> 
> A bit of clarification on the KBBC Antiques Warehouse, since I have more ideas/facts about it that didn't make it into the fic. Arthur met Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio at university and the three of them dragged him into their little group. He ended up stuck with them for life, and a few years after they graduated they decided to open a business together by merging all of their skills. Arthur deals with the proper antiques side of things, all the vases and jewellery and small family heirlooms. Francis's speciality is furniture, and he especially loves pieces from the Rococo, Revival, and Art Nouveau eras. Gilbert deals with metalwork and smithing. Mostly he does wrought-iron fences and decorative pieces for people, though he loves forging swords and daggers in his spare time to sell. Antonio is a ceramics master and the back of the warehouse is his (very hot, from the kilns) domain. He has a keen eye for colour palettes and design. Though he mainly works with tiling, he does occasionally fire pottery as well. They're all good at restoration in their particular areas as well, and have made a name for themselves as the experts in the region.
> 
> They like to go around historical places, critiquing the design/restoration choices and bragging about how much of a better job they would have done. Quietly, of course.
> 
> After Arthur became part of the council, his work with the Warehouse became more part-time, though he still keeps an eye out for interesting pieces wherever he goes.


End file.
